


Rebuild

by Lilyliegh



Series: Rhizomatic [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient Egypt, Gen, Mid-Canon, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyliegh/pseuds/Lilyliegh
Summary: Just after the disaster of Battle City, Yuugi and his friends return to some form of normalcy as they try to piece together how to get the Pharaoh back home. Without the Ishtars' help though, that proves to be more difficult. At the same time, Ryou and the Spirit are also searching for a way to send the Spirit back home. Yet with the mystery of the Millennium Items and the Stone Tablet, it will take a miracle to recover the memories and events of 3000 years ago.Sequel to Shatter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> welcome back!! <3   
> first off, i want to give a HUGE shout-out to everyone who commented on Shatter; i'm serious, it's because of you that this fic got a sequel. special kudos to firetrap and HomuraBakura - but just ... your praise and love really inspired me! thank you! ^^ 
> 
> also, and most importantly, a HUGE thank you to Poppy, my lovely beta, who i can now call my girlfriend. thank you for your endless support and constructive criticism, and for sticking with me through Shatter and Rebuild ^^ 
> 
> without further ado, i hope you enjoy Rebuild, the Millennium World UA (:

_ Blink. Blink. _

It … doesn’t really help. It’s dark the moment he’s off the stairs leading into the crypt, and when the Spirit stretches out his hand he can’t see much further than his outstretched fingertips. The pale digits glow in the remaining light, spindly and ghostly. He wiggles them a bit, a smile tugging on his cheeks. 

Then he jumps forward once, twice, his small body leaping and weaving through the darkness. Without his eyesight, the Spirit has to use his other senses to figure out where he’s going. There are small indents and rises in the dusty ground that he uses to locate footprints – many footprints, in fact. The Spirit can feel them all around him, like there were once swarms of people dashing through these halls. Now though, all he hears are the moans of the wind scraping over the top of the staircase.

The Spirit braces his hands out in front of him, occasionally moving them to the side in case he should meet up with the walls. When he hopped off the stairs he remembers seeing walls, but no matter where he walks he appears to be in a rather large room, or maybe even a large, wide hallway. This wouldn’t be a problem except the Spirit’s host body is thin and weak, and the eyes can’t see even the ghosts of shadows in this room. No matter where the Spirit looks, he only sees the darkness looking back at him.

“Tch,” he mutters under his breath. His voices carries through the room, but there’s no sounds of footprints running to his side. If there are even people in this crypt, they are well-hidden and not presenting themselves.

So the Spirit tries again: “Hey.” His voice, while young and rather soft, still echoes and echoes, like a mantra that’s volleyed from one side of the room to the other. 

And still, no one responds.

The Spirit kicks at the dusty ground in anger. The Ring has led him back here, to where all the other Items lay. Fuck, this is where he was born and raised, he should remember what these floors felt like, what these walls look like! But the Spirit can’t remember anything. His memories are as blank as the darkness that cloaks this room.

Eventually, he has to give up and keep moving forward. He follows the dusty footsteps in what feels like forward. After a few more minutes, he begins to notice how the feet all move in this direction, with the thinner toe indents pointing forward. The feet become fewer too; fewer people have travelled this far in the tombs. Thus, the Spirit knows he is on the right path. He picks up his pace, nearly racing with his child-body through the hallways and rooms that he can’t see. 

It’s not a minute later when he catches a sparkle of white in his line of vision, and he nearly trips himself in joy. He glances up, down, and all around, looking for the sign – and it’s his foot. Just his foot. The light has appeared in this section of the hallway, and while it doesn’t provide much light, it’s enough for the Spirit to see not only his tiny foot but shadows of  _ himself.  _ He can see the floor with its scraped tiles. There are walls just a few feet on either side of him – tall, made of rock, and decorated with scratched-away hieroglyphs.

Curiously, the Spirit sets his hands on the walls. It’s been so long since he had to read hieroglyphs, and the only reason he knows how to read is because he taught himself. His brain is rather foggy, but those symbols … they mean father. And those symbols, they mean child. All around him are words he can’t understand, but those few hieroglyphs mean something. Those are words someone has written. Those words have  _ survived. _

The Spirit moves closer to the light, dragging one hand along the wall. His fingers feel every bump and scratch; his eyes follow the drawings, the words, trying to make meaning of the slightest of symbols. From time to time he stops just to admire what he’s forgotten for all these years.

Over time, the hallway becomes both narrower and lighter. The light comes from braziers lit and hung on the walls. The metal is worn and rusted – these braziers have been here for  _ centuries  _  – but the light … Standing up on his tiptoes, the Spirit examines the flame. If there is light, if there is fire, he is not alone. Further down the hallway are more and more braziers, now making the hallway look like a pathway into Aaru. The Spirit really doesn’t want to go there, but he’s curious enough to explore further.

His steps become softer; without the shadows as his aid, he stands out among the brown rock. His white hair and pale skin  _ glow  _ in the most unseemly of ways; though he’s small, he’s not invisible. The Ring under his shirt cling-clangs from time to time, the tines bumping against each other like the bars of a wind chime. At just over ten years old, he stands at less than half the height of the braziers; the ceiling stretches far above him, as black as the night sky.

Glancing down, the Spirit realises that, from dragging himself along the walls and kicking up the dirt, he’s soiled his host’s clothes. They didn’t have much time to leave – the Spirit ran out of the house in their school uniform, sailor-style with shiny black shoes. 

The uniform too glows.

Eventually, the Spirit makes it to the end of the hallway, where the area drops down into another set of stairs. At the top of the stairset, the Spirit peers down into the abyss. It’s far, and deep, and … He’s been on these stairs before. He’s been at the bottom, where he  _ knows  _ what room is there. His stomach roils, and he presses his hand there. 

Then he descends, one step at a time. Each step is purposeful, completed with a heavy breath out, until his lungs burn from the descent that should have been far less painful. There are no braziers or any kind of light in the stairwell down; halfway through his descent, the Spirit is plunged once more into darkness. This time though, he knows exactly where he is going. The smooth steps have been worn away by thousands of feet racing up and down it.

At the bottom step, the Spirit stands and peers round the corner of the stairwell. Beyond his spot is a large, bright,  _ disgusting  _ room, stretching at least a hundred feet apart in all directions. The ceiling is vaulted in a way that should be impossible underground had the Spirit not remembered just how far he’s stepped down into the belly of the world. Tall, floor-to-ceiling pillars border a pathway up to three steps, upon which a dais is built. And there, at the very top of the dais, is the Millennium Stone.

The Spirit swallows. All those years ago, he closed his eyes when the Stone was created. He saw all the nasty parts before that. Now though, the blood is gone, and the gold is far fewer. The lighting is the same though. There’s still a haunted feeling in this place, as if those hundred victims are still restlessly hanging around their death site because they can’t move on. 

Three thousand years ago, the Millennium Items were created here. 

The Spirit can still see the flicker of gold coming from the top of the Stone. Apparently there’s still another Item there, one that hasn’t found a possessor. The Spirit chuckles. 

_ Click. Clack. _

A man appears at the top of the dais, like a ghost risen from his grave. He’s a tall man, dark-skinned, with cat-like eyes that blink slowly to the Spirit in his hiding place. The man wears only a long, white robe that sweeps the floor, and a turban of the same colour wrapped round his bald head. 

_ S …. Shaadii? That’s his name, right? _

The Spirit doesn’t move, just in case Shaadii might not have seen him. He can’t get a feel for the mysterious man. Does Shaadii know that he is possessing an elementary school boy? Does Shaadii know what he’s up against? Will Shaadii fight back?

All Shaadii does is stand rigidly still at the top step of the dais, looking down at the Spirit.

Well fine! He’ll be the first to show himself!

The Spirit slinks out from behind the wall, awkwardly raising a hand. “Um … hi?”

Shaadii doesn’t say anything.

_ Shit!  _ thinks the Spirit. He tries again, clearing his throat and stepping closer. “My daddy … he’s an archeologist. You look like one too, and maybe an archeologist from here. Can you … tell me where I am?”

This time, Shaadii steps down. His clothes rustle and flutter behind his ankles before once more pooling on the next step. When he draws his hands together, the dress never creases. “An archeologist, you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you lost?”

The Spirit quickly shakes his head, white locks whipping at his cheeks. “No sir, I knew how to get down here and I think I know how to get back. I just … Where am I?”

_ Tell me, Shaadii. You yourself even know. _

“Kul Elna.”

It pains the Spirit to have to play dumb, but he does. He chews on a thumb, eyes shifting from one wall, to the other, to then the Millennium Stone. Whatever he does, he has to appear naive. Shaadii, with his Millennium Key, can only look into someone’s mind if he presses that key to their forehead. That doesn’t mean he poses no threat: Shaadii is equally perceptive and would be able to tell if any ‘evil spirits’ were prowling around the ruins.

“Oh,” the Spirit finally says. “Why are you down here?”

“I guard this place.” 

“From what?”

“Spirits.”

_ Play the dumb card,  _ the Spirit tells himself.

He skips a few steps forward, across the now-clean tiles and to the bottom of the dais. Then he falls forward onto the first step, knees bumping against the stones. He peers up at Shaadii, blue eyes twinkling. “That’s cool! Can you tell me who you are?”

Shaadii takes another step down. “I am a Tombkeeper.”

The Spirit rolls the word around on his tongue. He’s never met a … Tombkeeper before. This guy looks neither young nor old. Pausing, the Spirit then wonders if the Tombkeepers live underground back in the day, in tombs like the Ruins of Kul Elna. Bakura doesn’t remember seeing any people like Shaadii. However, it would explain why Shaadii seems attached to this place like it’s  _ his  _ home.

“Well, I’m Japanese,” the Spirit says to fill the empty space. He forces a laugh under his breath to diffuse the awkwardness, and then begins to crawl forward up the stairs, one at a time. Three thousand years ago, he couldn’t even climb up these stairs because there was blood everywhere. Someone has spent a  _ hell  _ of a long time cleaning up the bloodstains, but that’s not a question he can ask Shaadii.

As the Spirit climbs, Shaadii steps back to let him through. They both stand at the top of the dais, at the end of the Stone Tablet. Now up close, the Spirit can see how clearly it resembles a sarcophagus. There is the stern face of a man at the top, with the arms crossed across the chest; at the bottom, the legs appear to be wrapped in linens. The Spirit has seen this before, only there were … more Items. The Torque and Eye are missing from the head, the Rod and Key missing from the hands, and the Puzzle and Ring (obviously) missing from the body. All that remains is one Item, the Scales, at the very bottom of the Stone.

The Spirit wants to spit on it. Seven Items, and only the  _ easiest  _ one to steal is here. Shaadii’s wearing the Key round his neck though. If the Spirit took both, he’d have three. Then he’d just need to search for the Eye, Rod, and Torque. Easy, huh?

Casually, the Spirit’s eyes drift up to Shaadii. He has neither moved nor blinked, looking down at  the same Item as the Spirit had been.

“Why are there so many empty spaces?” the Spirit bothers to ask, just to break the suffocating silence in this room.

“The Items choose people of extraordinary power –”

“Like superheroes!” 

“ – and it is these people who must wield the unique, dangerous powers of the Items. It is both a blessing and a curse.”

_ Kinda like how these Items were either a blessing or a curse depending on which population you’re thinking of, huh?  _ the Spirit thinks, but he bites down on his tongue and forces a smile. 

“Can I have that one?” he says, pointing to the _only_ damn Item in the stone. “Lemme try it out!”

Shaadii’s eyes narrow. “Only the strongest of minds –”

The Spirit bites back a growl. Seriously, Shaadii’s going to pull this bullshit on him. Huffing, the Spirit crosses his thin arms and growls, “I have the best grade in Japanese class. I can do it.”

To his surprise, it’s these words that make Shaadii concede. He doesn’t say anything, but he stretches down and plucks the scales from their place inlaid in the Stone. The Scales are a rather large Item, made of gold, and with two matching plates suspended by a bar. The Spirit can’t quite remember what this Item did because no one important used it, but he muses to himself as Shaadii holds out the Item.

The Spirit stretches out a hand.

“You must be tested by the Millennium Scales,” Shaadii explains. “I will touch the Item to your heart, and if it senses any darkness, the scales will tip.”

_ Go for it. _

Shaadii’s arm stretches out, knuckles nearly to the body’s chest. The middle of the Scales taps right against the middle of his ribcage, where unfortunately all his bones can he seen. It hurts for a moment, but then the Scales begin to shiver, not dropping, but hovering, swinging, growing erratic, as if it can’t tell  _ what  _ kind of energy is within the Spirit but surely it can’t be good –

_ Plunk!  _ The Scales drop straight down.

The Spirit’s fist comes forward, pushing the Scales right back into Shaadii’s own chest. The Spirit doesn’t give up there though: he keeps pushing, both hands coming round to shove at Shaadii’s tall body. Shaadii stumbles atop the dais. The Spirit notices this, and he kicks out a leg, aiming for where he supposes Shaadii’s foot would be under the robes. At  the same time, the air in the room becomes denser. The lights flicker with the change in energy; some even disappear, plunging them both into twilight.

The Spirit reaches out for the Item. “Give – that – to – me!” he snarls. His body is by no means strong, but over the past couple months he’s become increasingly more agile. He bends himself forward, sideways, and back – any direction possible to try and twist the base of the Scales out of Shaadii’s iron grip. But Shaadii is stronger than he looks, and wiser, and his eyes widen like he’s just spotted something on the Spirit’s face.

And then Shaadii lunges forward. The Spirit stumbles backwards now, only being at the edge of the dais makes him lose his balance and fall. Quickly, the Spirit jumps into control. He thought he could get the Scales by pushing Shaadii off the dais; however, it now appears that some magic is needed.

Under his shirt, the Ring begins to warm and glow. Thick, dark tendrils spew from the centre of the Ring and wrap around Shaadii. It doesn’t lighten the Spirit’s fall in the slightest though. He still hits the ground, the wind knocked out of him. He lies on the solid stone, coughing weakly and trying to get up. The shadow magic whips and tears around the Kul Elna sacrifice room, wiping out all the lights and creating ghastly shadows on the scrubbed-clean walls.

_ Scratches. Someone has scratched clean the blood. _

Darkness erupts from the centre of the Ring once more, only this time it targets Shaadii, swallowing him up. The Spirit’s never tried these powers before, and they do spurt and sputter from time to time – but, for the first time in three thousand years, he’s alive. He’s awake. This body moves when he wants it to move, jumping, spinning, landing on Shaadii. The Spirit’s hands find Shaadii’s face, and with his free hand he grabs the Scales and bashes them to Shaadii’s face. The impact causes Shaadii to let go of the Item. That only helps the Spirit. He begins hitting harder, deeper, smashing in Shaadii’s nose, his painted eyes, his twisted lips –

Blood soaks into the tiles, splattered all around the Spirit’s body. The darkness swoops down to assist it, wrapping around his arms. The Spirit ignores anything his two hands can’t touch though.

He brings the Scales down once more on Shaadii’s face, then steps back to admire his handiwork. This guy … he’s trouble. Tombkeepers are trouble. He looks like some Pharaoh’s pet, and  _ no one  _ belongs in the Kul Elna tombs.

The Spirit stands and brushes himself clean. Then he takes one look at the golden Item, bloodied, an Item made from blood, and he vomits on the tiles. His child body rejects whatever is going through his mind. Splitting, shattering pain stretches from the back of his head all the way to his forehead as he retches over and over again, not even bringing anything up.

The moment the Spirit can stop though, he runs. He drops the Item, drops the weight and the pain and the feeling of freeness, and dashes up the stairs. His feet slip on the blood on the floor and he tumbles once, feeling a whine crawl up his throat. Deep in his mind, the Spirit can feel another presence trying to move forward, and he screams at the world.

_ Get out of my head! _

_ Your head!  _ the voice shouts back.

Up the stairs the Spirit dashes, using his bloody hands to run doggy-style and pull himself all the way to the top. He runs through the light, then the dark, feet clapping against the dust and the stone. Everywhere he looks, there are voices, there are eyes, there is blood on his hands and it’s not his own, his own –

The Spirit breaks the surface before he even realises it, crashing down onto the cold, Egyptian sand. The temperatures are well below zero, and the wind rushes over his head. Sand gets in his eyes at once, and the Spirit quickly covers his face with his hands. His palms fall over his mouth. It’s all the opportunity the Spirit needs to  _ scream  _ for all the world to hear. His fingers come up to dig into his cheeks and eyes, dirty nails pawing at the tender skin there.

His home … his memories … He can’t remember them.

_ Your body?  _ the voice keeps saying, becoming a bit indignant and firm.

So the Spirit screams louder. “No, no, mine, mine! That’s what’s in there, all mine – the gold, the stones, the blood, all of it! And this” – he slaps a hand to his chest, bending forward to scream with all his might at the twilight sand – “it’s mine too! You’re mine, I’m me, I’m –” He vomits again, this time on his bloody school shoes. As soon as he’s done he kicks those off too, throwing them down the stairs into the tombs.

“And those are mine too!” he shouts after them.

Only when he stops screaming does he realise how quiet it is tonight. His voice doesn’t echo, but is instead swallowed up by the sky itself. When he steps, his footsteps are muffled by the sand. When he breathes, the wind takes away the air he desperately needs. Sand blows all around him, scraping at any bit of exposed skin. 

Slowly, the Spirit takes a deep breath in, then out. He tugs off his scarf, and ties it over his face; his world immediately becomes darker than black, but at least he no longer has to feel the sand trying to get into his every open orifice. Besides, he doesn't need to see. He needs to find shelter until the morning, when he’ll look for his horse that he tied up somewhere and he’ll try to return home. 

_ Hey. _

The voice … is still there. It’s not the dark, malicious voice that occasionally raids his thoughts, but instead the rather sweet yet mysterious voice of the boy who also owns the body. The Spirit has yet to tell him that said boy will be little more than a  _ landlord.  _

Nonetheless, the Spirit amuses himself.  _ What? _

_ Why are you here? _

_ Nun’ of ya business,  _ he mutters.

_ That’s not an answer. _

_ That’s not an answer you  _ wanted. The Spirit chuckles to himself, surprised by his dear host’s stubbornness and will. He’s a little spitfire once you rile him up a bit. The Spirit once thought his host was pathetic. No, the boy plays as many roles as him, wears as many masks to cover up who he truly is. In fact, he’s a fascinating host. The Spirit hasn’t yet been able to pry into the boy’s mind, but every so often the Spirit peers up the hallway and stares at the boy’s door. 

_ What are you doing? _

The Spirit settles down on the silty sand, shivering. It will be too late at night to travel back home, so he must make camp here … somehow. Peeking out from the scarf, all the Spirit spots are bashed-in houses and scattered debris.

_ You don’t know, do you?  _

_ I  _ do, he growls.  _ What are you even doing,  _ Ryou?

At the corner of his mind, Ryou stiffens.  _ Don’t mock my name – I’m asking a question. I …  _ Ryou pauses. The Spirit hasn’t given him any control besides the use of his own voice; Ryou can’t see or hear where they are. He’s blind inside the hallway of their mind, though he’s surprisingly calm about it. Were the situations reversed, the Spirit would feel like a caged animal and lash out. He wouldn’t let anyone trap him or use him. He would answer to  _ no one. _

But Ryou just hangs about.  _ I want to know what’s wrong. You’re anxious. _

_ Am not. _

Ryou sighs.  _ There’s something wrong, and I can tell if even if you’ve locked me out.  _

The Spirit’s eyes dart around the dark desert. He spots a house where the roof had been toppled, but not crumbled – it stands with one side up against the house and the other in the dirt, providing a roof between a crawl space. While it won’t be warm or comfortable, it will keep the sand out of his eyes and provide him with the bare minimum of shelter for the night. Tomorrow, he’ll head home anyways.

With his hands still over his face, the Spirit hurries across the sand to the decrepit house. He tucks himself between the wall and the collapsed roof, positioning himself in the middle of the shelter so that no sand can be swept into his eyes. When he’s safe, he lowers his hands and falls once more to the ground. His legs hurt, his mind hurts – everything hurts, and it’s only more obvious when he tumbles forward into sleep and lands face-first in his soul room.

Oh.

Like the desert, his soul room his both dark and sandy. No matter where he looks there is darkness creeping around, tendrils licking at his hands and face. Whenever the thinks he sees light, it’s an illusion meant to draw him closer to a pair of red eyes. The Spirit knows what those eyes are: they symbolise the contract he made long, long ago to the demon. The demon doesn’t speak much now, but his presence scares the Spirit. He doesn’t like to be in the room because of the demon, yet there’s nowhere else for him to go.

In his soul room though, he can see. He steps through the darkness, greeting it like an old friend. Though the darkness extends as far as he can see, and thus he can’t really see much, about ten feet away there is his soul room door. It’s scratched on both sides from his nails digging into it. When he’s angry or hurt, he makes another gash in the door, until he had to begin repeating the process. 

The Spirit heads to the door, opens it, and peers into the hallway. Dark tendrils seep through and attempt to crawl through the hallway, but they don’t make it more than a few feet before they hiss and evaporate.  The Spirit watches, fascinated. The hallway is bordered by stone on all four sides, with a path that only heads in one direction. On one end is his soul room with his scratched door, and at the end is Ryou’s room. While his door is rather intact, there is water dripping from under his door and leading down the hallway.

_ He’s crying,  _ the Spirit mutters. 

The Spirit slams his soul room door.

At the other end of the hallway, he hears the other door open. It squeaks on its hinges, alerting the Spirit.

When he opens the door again, Ryou is in the hallway, rubbing at his red eyes. His shoulder-length white hair is tangled at the bottoms, and his bangs are pushed to one side of his forehead. His tears have made his cheeks and nose red, and he rubs at both as he tries to clean up the evidence.

The Spirit laughs.  _ Not having a good night, are we? _

_ I’m fine. _

He comes closer. They are the same height, mirror twins unless someone looked closely enough at the way the Spirit makes his appearance pointier, more menacing, more wild. In their soul rooms, they wear the same blue striped pyjamas that hang off their lithe bodies. 

The Spirit clicks his teeth together.  _ You don’t look fine. What, are you sad that I left you out of the adventure? _

Ryou shakes his head.  _ I … don’t know who you are. _

His words make the Spirit blink, and blink again.  _ What do you mean, ‘you don’t know who I am?’ What, are you crying because you don’t know my name. I told you, unless you plan on calling me Bakura, which you claimed was  _ your name,  _ then you can call me Spirit or Master.  _ He grins to himself.  _ Don’t you remember, dear landlord? _

Normally that gets a rile out of Ryou, who always insists that he’s not a landlord to anyone, much less a parasitic spirit. However, this time Ryou just bites his pink lips, cheeks puffed out like an impudent child.

_ What I mean is who are you? What are you doing? Why are we together? _

The Spirit shrugs.  _ I don’t need to have the answers. _

_ But you know where we are, don’t you? This place … I can feel your emotions through your door – _

_ You can _ not, the Spirit growls.  _ You’re delusional, landlord, and I bet you need some sleep. _

_ But I can’t sleep knowing that you … That I don’t know is possessing me. That’s why I’m begging you, please – tell me who you are. _

_ Enough!  _ The Spirit crosses the distance between them in three powerful, thunderous steps that echo throughout the stone hallway. They are now toe to toe and nose to nose. Ryou flinches when the Spirit leans into him, but he doesn’t look away. They both have the same iridescently blue eyes that belong on a cat or a dragon. When the Spirit looks at Ryou, he sees a box of mysteries. 

_ You don’t need to know anything about me, nothing at all! I told you, the only reason I need to know about  _ you  _ is because you need friends, and if you have friends I can figure out who else is walking around with a Millennium Item. I couldn’t care less about the rest of your life, and I could  _ especially  _ care less about what you think of me. You won’t know anything about me, Ryou, not now, not ever. _

Ryou’s head bounces up and down, bumping noses with the Spirit. Neither of them move back. Then, softly, Ryou clears his throat. 

_ Fine. But you might need help, and I won’t just blindly follow you if I don’t know who you are. If I’m to work with you, I need to trust you.  _ His mouth snaps closed and he takes a step back. The Spirit watches Ryou head all the way back to his room, where he pauses at the doorway and gives one more glance to the Spirit.Then he disappears into his soul room.

The water is nowhere in sight.

The Spirit growls, kicking out at the wall. As cunning and useful as Ryou might be, he’s willfully stubborn. Unfortunately, he’s also right. When the time comes, the Spirit might need Ryou’s help. 

Someday he’ll need to tell Ryou about Kul Elna.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so chapters will be updated on Wednesdays, but possible not every Wednesday ^^;; Poppy and I are doing our best though ~

_Other Me?_

_Yes, Yuugi?_

_Do you know … what happens next?_

Yuugi balances on the edge of his bed, legs dangling and toes dusting his floor that’s covered with puzzle pieces. He and Jounouchi have been working hard at these puzzle for a few days now, but they’re only halfway done. Its massive size makes it hard to do it anywhere but across his floor, and so Yuugi has been tiptoeing around his bedroom ever since, careful of the hundreds of pieces already in place, and the hundreds more sitting in the box.

At this hour, he should be asleep, or at the very least enjoying the rest of his summer holidays. However, Yuugi can’t help but feel there is so, so much that is missing. He bounces the Puzzle from one small hand to the other, feeling its comfortable weight in his palms. He still has the Puzzle; his Item has been returned to him. Lying on the bed is the god card Saint Dragon of Osirirs which he got from dueling against one of Malik’s Ghouls.

And … that’s that. Yuugi has nothing else to gleam any information from. The police have the Ishtar murder and suicide investigation wrapped up so tight that even the press hasn’t been able to garner any information from them. What does come across through the radio systems are simply re-tellings of how Malik’s body was found aboard the ship, meticulously and disgustingly staged. The bodies of his siblings, Ishizu and Rishid, were found floating in the water.

_What happens next?_ Sitting next to him in spirit form, the Pharaoh can only cross his arms and hum under his breath. He doesn’t remember a single detail after Jounouchi, possessed by Malik, drop-kicked the Puzzle into the sea. The next memory he has is waking up in the Kame Game Shop surrounded by his friends.

Yuugi nods, holding back a sigh. _There’s something missing – something big._

_Like these god cards?_ The Pharaoh reaches out to stroke them, fingers tracing the holographic lines. _Are these from my memories? Are these my cards?_

_Your cards?_ Yuugi shrugs, more to himself than to the Pharaoh. _I honestly don’t know. If Malik brought them over, maybe they’re Egyptian, like the Egyptian gods, but if they’re Monsters & Wizards cards then they’d belong to Pegasus … who isn’t Egyptian; he only went to Egypt for inspiration. _

_You think Malik was affiliated with Pegasus?_

_Doubt it. Pegasus went to Egypt a long, long time ago – Malik would have still been a kid –_

The Pharaoh leans forward. _What if Pegasus met Malik?_

That only makes the narrative more confusing. Yuugi falls forward, moaning into his hands. _There’s absolutely no way of knowing that though because they’re both dead, and all we have for evidence is  Pegasus’ journal which is all the way back in Duelist Kingdom, and Malik’s personal files that are now under the possession of the police. We can’t learn anything from what either of them have to offer._

Yuugi’s eyes roll towards the god card. _If that’s a clue, we have nowhere to go from there. I’m sorry, Other Me._

Though the Pharaoh’s body is weightless and a ghost, Yuugi feels the pressure of _something_ on his shoulder, coaxing his heart down from its violent beatings. The Pharaoh breathes in sync with him, slowly, in and out like the water along the Nile. When Yuugi looks up, he sees the Pharaoh looking back at him. In this Spirit form, the Pharaoh is wearing the clothes Yuugi picked out for him: black leather skinny jeans; a tight, black tank top; and studded bracelets and bracers and a choker that are tight to his pale skin. He looks out of place in modern garb, like he should be swathed in the royal robes of an Egyptian pharaoh.

The Pharaoh smiles at him though, violet eyes shimmering at the corners from the moonlight that creeps through the overhead window. When they both look up to the starlight, Yuugi feels warmth on his face. It seeks to bring his heart rate down from a steady thrum.

When Yuugi looks back down, there’s a smile on his own lips too.

_Don’t you ever … miss your memories? Don’t you ever wish you could know more?_

The Pharaoh tilts his head to the side. _About?_

_About_ everything! _About the world, about your past and your family and your friends. You don’t have any of that, and for me, all those things make me ‘me.’_

_I am ‘me’ because …_ The Pharaoh’s eyes narrow. _I am ‘me’ because I am with you, with your friends and family, and living in your world._

_Then … are you not the same as the Pharaoh living back then?_

The Pharaoh shrugs, and there’s a wry smile on his lips. He chuckles under his breath, coming round to bonk Yuugi lightly on the shoulder. _I guess I am not, Yuugi. The me back then is someone that may be forever lost in time. But even if I get my memories back, I’ll still be different. I’ll have the memories here, of being you with you and Anzu and Jounouchi and Honda and Bakura. I’ll have memories from another timeline where I wasn’t a Pharaoh, but I was a duelist and a friend. And so yes, I miss my memories, but I also love what new memories I have._

Yuugi blinks back the forming tears. His entire body clenches up, trying to keep all the emotions within him. How is it that his other self can maintain such calmness during this time? Is this an example of his kingly spirit, or has he always been a rather complex, contemplative person? Over the years, Yuugi has seen the Pharaoh grow from a ravaged spirit to a just man. The change has been slow and gradual, built up over many battles and challenges.

Carefully, Yuugi scooches closer until he’s shoulder to shoulder with the Pharaoh. Then he holds the Puzzle out towards the him, so that both of their hands can cradle the golden Item. They can both feet the heartbeat under their fingertips.

Then Yuugi feels himself falling forward, tumbling and rolling, and when he opens his eyes he’s standing in a room of staircases and stone. Everywhere he looks there are stairs, steps, leading to and fro around the room that seems to extend endlessly in all directions. There are doors at the end of some staircases, and in other places there are just doors in walls with no possible way to get to them. Each and every door has the Eye of Wadjet on it, the same symbol on the Millennium Puzzle.

Yuugi glances around. He feels even smaller in such a monstrous space. Next to him, the Pharaoh stands tall and proud with his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“Where … is this?” Yuugi asks. He’s surprised at the sound of his own voice, and the fact that the Pharaoh can hear him without the mindlink.

“My soul room.”

Yuugi nods, and hums under his breath. He’s only stepped into the Pharaoh’s soul room once, and for the most part he and the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle exist and connect outside of their soul rooms. This is the first time Yuugi’s properly been inside the room before, and to be honest he’s shocked at what he sees. The Pharaoh's soul room is one big, complex puzzle. It’s an unsolvable game that Yuugi doesn’t even know where to begin at.

So, until his mind can adjust, Yuugi flops down to the ground, legs splayed out before him. No matter where he looks there is an endless maze of stairs and doors. Some of the passageways leading elsewhere in the soul room are well-lit with lamps attached into the stone pieces, but other hallways are dark.

“It’s huge, is it not?”

Yuugi bobs his head up and down. His own soul room is much smaller, more like his bedroom with all his toys and video games inside. A twinge of jealousy pricks his stomach, and it makes him giggle. How lucky it must be to have such a grandiose place.

At the same time though, the more Yuugi looks around, the more he realises what’s missing in this place: entertainment. There’s not a single book or game in sight, unless all those precious belongings are behind the closed doors. However, Yuugi has a sneaking suspicion that some of those doors don’t open, and others he might not want to open.

“What do you do in here?” Yuugi asks.

The Pharaoh shrugs. “I’m not normally in here …”

Yuugi can understand why. There’s not even a bed in sight.

Yuugi shoots a hand out to point at one door at random. It looks like every other door in this soul room: large, wrought-iron, with the Eye of Wadjet bolted onto the front. “What’s behind that door?”

The Pharaoh shrugs once more. “I don’t know.”

Yuugi points to another door. “And that one?”

“I don’t know.”

This time, Yuugi turns to the Pharaoh. “What doors _have_ you been in then?”

Crossing his arms, the Pharaoh doesn’t respond. His eyes shift from one side to the next, seeming to take in all of the room. Then, he looks down at his feet, and then at Yuugi’s. “Every time I enter this soul room, I arrive at a different place. Where we are right now we might never see again. There are millions of doors here, so I can’t begin to know which ones I’ve checked and which ones I haven’t.”

Yuugi swallows. “Your room is that big?”

“Yes.”

Carefully, Yuugi climbs to his feet and begins walking to the first flight of stairs he sees. The way the rocks are connected together to make the ground and walls reminds him of being inside a stone puzzle, which only further confirms his suspicion that they might be _inside_ the Puzzle. However, the only doors Yuugi has ever seen have been the ones in the hallway between their soul rooms.

He looks back over his shoulder to where the Pharaoh still stands in the middle of the room. “Can I open one of these doors?”

Even from such a distance, it’s clear that the Pharaoh is uncomfortable here. He stiffens, glancing to the door Yuugi stands just before. “Sometimes, partner, there are dangers behind the doors.”

“Do you think there are dangers behind this door?” Yuugi says, giving the door one strong tap with his knuckles. The sound reverberates all across the giant room, bouncing on the edges of the staircases and create a strange sort of echo. Yuugi does it again, listening for any other sounds he might be able to hear. If the Pharaoh were across the room, would he hear him?

Again, the Pharaoh’s lips and eyebrows pinch tight. Yuugi has only seen this expression a few times on the Pharoah, mostly when he’s been trapped in a corner with no way out.

“I won’t unless I have your permission,” Yuugi says. “This is your soul room, not mine, and I won’t trespass.”

“You aren’t trespassing.”

Yuugi bites back his tongue. He stills his hand on the smooth, gold door handle. He can’t hear anything through the other side of the door, and that only makes him more curious. What’s going on on the other side? It sounded like the Pharaoh has been through those same doors before. What has he seen in there before?

When the Pharaoh doesn’t respond, Yuugi prompts him. “Other Me?”

The Pharaoh stiffens, body going visibly rigid. Then he murmurs something to himself, something so quiet that even if Yuugi were standing right next to him he would not have heard. The next thing Yuugi hears is a step, so loud it echoes with the same intensity all throughout the soul room. The Pharaoh takes another, and another, more hunking steps until he’s at the bottom of the staircase.

“Let me come with you.”

Yuugi’s hand slips off the handle. “Come with me.”

The Pharaoh nods, beginning to climb the steps with the same deliberate moves. “I may not have faced the dangers behind that door either. I don’t know what’s in my soul room. Therefore, if you want to venture into there, I will accompany you. Let’s do this together.” He makes it to the top at last, face a bit pale.

Yuugi reaches out to take his hand. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” When the Pharaoh doesn’t respond, Yuugi adds, “Well, whatever is on the other side is something the two of us can face together. What if your memories are locked behind that door? Wouldn’t you like to see them?”

Again, the Pharaoh doesn’t nod, but through the mindlink Yuugi feels the confirmation. With his other hand he reaches out and twists the doorknob. The door swings inwards with a loud whine that makes Yuugi throw a hand to his ears to block out some of the noise. He squeezes his eyes closed for a second, and then opens them back up.

Staring back at him is darkness.

“There’s … nothing,” Yuugi says. “Is it empty?”

The Pharaoh swallows. “Some of the rooms I tried to enter looked like this. Some of them have traps in them, and it’ll be impossible to tell if this is such a room without the light. We should tread carefully.”

Yuugi nods. He takes one small step in, dipping his toes into the thick, choking darkness. The dark is almost a tangible being, like smog pumped out of a chimney pipe. It’s cold too! Yuugi shivers and pulls his foot back.

“Shadow magic?” he guesses.

“I think so.”

Yuugi sticks his foot back in, teeth sinking into his lip as his skin becomes cold and cloaked. The darkness binds around him, but Yuugi takes another step forward, and another, until he’s inside the room. The Puzzle glows softly against his chest, providing the barest of light through which all Yuugi can see is the Pharaoh standing next to him.

Suddenly the Pharaoh pulls Yuugi two steps to the left. “This way.”

“Why?” Yuugi says at once. “Can you see in here?”

“No, but I can feel it. If this is my soul room, that means everything in here is a part of me. I should know this better than anyone else, but …” The Pharaoh’s voice dwindles away, choked up by the darkness that seeps all around them. The last time Yuugi felt darkness so pungent was when he was dueling against the Pegasus at Duelist Kingdom, and the time before that when the Other Yuugi dueled the Spirit of the Millennium Ring at the Monster World Tabletop RPG.

With the darkness masking their eyesight, Yuugi has to rely on his other senses to get around. And, now that he thinks about it, he’s moved up a step. He feels a bit taller, and one foot is balanced just a smidgen higher than the other one. They’re on a hill of some kind, meaning the floor isn’t flat like he originally thought.

The Pharaoh takes him further up the hill. Any second Yuugi anticipates his head bonking on the ceiling, but he never gets there. The Puzzle can only shine light on their hands, and when Yuugi tries to hold it out to the open air the darkness seems to swallow it up. Without the light, they travel blindly through the soul room.

Eventually, Yuugi feels the floor even out beneath him. They’ve travelled thirty-two paces – he’s been counting – and they haven’t hit a wall or a ceiling yet. Perhaps these rooms are as vast as the main room they started in.

Ahead of him, the Pharaoh suddenly stops. He tugs Yuugi’s hand forward, so that they’re both standing side by side. Yuugi sees why.

Not twenty feet in front of them, or what feels like it, are three small, glowing balls: red, blue, and yellow. Just as Yuugi’s eyes catch on them they transform in shape, becoming small, albeit bright, monsters that light up the cavern. Yuugi sees the floor before them is made of worn stone tiles, just like the ones outside, only marred with scratches that he somehow hadn’t felt when he was stepping on them. Now his brain registers the marks, from little fingers, though, and he jumps a bit.

The three monsters flicker once more.

Yuugi looks up, squinting at the contrast between light and dark. Even from this distance, the detailing on the monsters is clear. The red one is a serpent, long, scaled, with little arms and legs jutting out of body. It has a head with _two_ jaws on it, both which open and close to reveal sets of large, sharp teeth. The second monster is more human-shaped, only blue, and made of stone it appears. It has a chiseled face and body, like a sculptor tried to replicate the human form with rough stone. And finally, the third monster is a type of bird – golden, with wide, arching wings that beat up and down. The upper half of its body appears furry or feathered, but the lower half is skinned and slim, with pointed talons attached to hooked feet.

The latter two are unfamiliar, but Yuugi recognises the first one as his own god card, Saint Dragon – God of Osiris. This dragon is much smaller, like a baby or a miniature, but it’s unmistakably the same monster that the mime called out when they dueled him in the Battle City preliminaries.

_If that’s_ our _god card, then those other two …_

Yuugi points to them, and looks up at the Pharaoh. “Those other two, do they seem familiar at all?”

“Vaguely,” the Pharaoh answers, “but that could just be because that red one there, that’s our god card.”

“Figured.” Yuugi begins walking closer; now that he can see the floor, he’s no longer afraid of tripping or falling to his death. “We should try to memorise what these look like, and then search for them later. If they’re in your soul room, I suspect they’re valuable in some way or another.”

“Like other god cards” the Pharaoh asks. “We should ask Kaiba about that – if anyone knows about trading cards, it’ll be him.”

Yuugi nods. After a moment, he steps forward again. His foot clangs on something that’s metal, and in the next second the room goes dark, every bit of light suppressed by what is now a cloaking, choking darkness. Yuugi raises a hand to his throat at once, coughing through the tightness, and tries to pry himself free. His eyes search wildly through the darkness for the Pharaoh, who’s next to him and equally pained.

Two large, red eyes split apart the darkness next. They’ve evil, Yuugi can tell, and nothing like the gentle lights that appeared before. These eyes move too, coming closer.

Yuugi screams as loud as he can, stepping back, back, back, feet scrabbling on the smooth stones. He reaches out a hand to grab at any part of the Pharaoh – he holds onto his wrist, fingers touching the smooth studs of the leather bracelets – and then Yuugi turns tail and runs. He dares  not look back at the eyes in the room. He runs as fast as he can through the darkness, not sure where to go. Nowhere in this room seems safe now. His lungs burn with the exertion, chest heaving.

Across the room, Yuugi suddenly sees another light. It’s a sliver in what appears to be a wall, through which Yuugi can see the barest of soft light crawling through. It’s a glimmer of hope though. Yuugi’s feet pound on the stones harder, faster, stronger, until he makes it to the wall and pushes on it with all his might. It’s not until he’s at the wall that he realises it’s a _door_ – more specifically, it’s quite possibly the same door he entered through.

His hands scrabble across the metal of the door until he locates the handle. Then he pushes forwards and tumbles out of the room and down the stairs. He squeezes his eyes closed as both he and Pharaoh roll down at least one flight of stairs – one _long_ flight of stairs – all the way to the floor, where they tumble just a bit further before collapsing on the ground. The Pharaoh lays atop him, eyes closed and features pinched. Underneath, Yuugi squints through the blinding light to see where he’s ended up.

The view from here is of the ceiling, stretching up as high as he can imagine. There are doors up there too, and stairs, and the bizarreness only continues as Yuugi tries to figure out where exactly he’s ended up. Is this where he and Pharaoh met up? It looks familiar, but then again so does the view to the left and to the right. This place is like an optical illusion.

What’s relieving though is that they’re back safe. Wherever they are, there are no balls of light or red eyes. Yuugi can’t find the door they fell through from, but none of the doors are open. Wherever they fell from, it’s gone.

Shaking his head slightly, Yuugi murmurs, “We’re safe.” He glances down to where the Pharaoh has begun to stir. He blinks his eyes and takes a few deep breaths that Yuugi feels against his own chest.

“Y … uugi?” The Pharaoh asks.

“I’m here, Other Me,” Yuugi answers. He wriggles a bit to let the Pharaoh know who he’s lying on top of, and the Pharaoh gets the messages and crawls off. They both sit up and cross their legs, taking a moment just to evaluate the situation they’ve found themselves in and the sights they’ve seen.

“I don’t know what was in that room.” The Pharaoh speaks first, voice calm and even despite the worrisome situation. “I don’t think I have ever been in that room before, but those colours … and those eyes … I have seen none of them before. I’m sorry, Yuugi, but if you have any questions for me, I won’t be able to answer them.”

At once, Yuugi brings up his hands. “No, I don’t expect you to! Don’t worry!” He lowers them a bit, peering between his fingers. The Pharaoh hasn’t met his eyes, instead looking around the room. “If you can remember though, do you know which door we fell through?”

The Pharaoh shakes his head. “This place is a puzzle, just like where my soul is attached to. It’s as blurry as my memories too.” He shakes his head again, and this time tries to stand on his shaking legs. At once, Yuugi hops up to try and assist him, but his own legs feel like jelly, and he only succeeds in taking the Pharaoh back down to the ground with him. They land sprawled on each other again.

Under his breath, Yuugi laughs to cover up the embarrassment that is _clear_ on his cheeks. Gosh, do they burn scarlet.

“Sorry, Other Me,” he says. He clears his throat, covering half his face with a hand that he hopes hide his blush. “Are you ready to go now?”

The Pharaoh nods.

Slowly, they both pick themselves up off the floor. From there, Yuugi isn’t quite sure where to travel to, but within a second there’s a warm hand in his own, and suddenly the next sight Yuugi sees is his bedroom wall plastered with Monsters & Wizards posters and his messy floor where the puzzle still remains. Hanging round his neck is the Millennium Puzzle, hot against his chest; Yuugi cups it with a hand, checking to make sure that the Pharaoh has returned safely too.

_I’m here, partner._

_I’m glad,_ Yuugi says. He looks up to where the stars decorate the sky like a milky constellation. While it’s highly likely Seto is still awake, talking with him can wait until tomorrow.

Yawning loudly, Yuugi stretches his arms above his head. He slips his toes under the blankets first, then his body, and finally pulls them all the way up to his chin. Only his head peeks out. Carefully, he removes the Puzzle from around his neck and nestles it against the pillow by his head. He faces the Puzzle, nose touching one of the top corners. Not a second later, his breath evens out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to Poppy, who kindly pointed every time i made a typo spelling Pharaoh (now Google Docs auto-corrects it for me XD). trust me Poppy, you are the best editor i could ask for <3


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning, Yuugi’s head isn’t any clearer. He wakes up disoriented, rolling off his bed and onto the puzzle below. Thankfully, he doesn’t dislodge any of the pieces, but the impact of falling sends him them shooting upwards. His eyes bounce out of his skull for a second as he comes to, and he puts a hand to his head to steady himself. 

_ What … happened last night?  _ He asks himself. His head hurts like he was thinking too hard about a problem, and while he’s certain he’s slept close to eight hours, his body feels like he’s run a mile.

Just as he’s trying to get his thoughts together, another presence slips into his mind – the Pharaoh, whose soul feels as drowsy as Yuugi feels.  _ Do you not remember last night, Yuugi? We went into my mind room. I bet it was rather taxing for you, and I apologise for not telling you sooner. _

_ ‘S fine,  _ Yuugi mutters. He shakes his head and gathers himself up to his feet. Now that the Pharaoh mentioned it, Yuugi  _ does  _ remember what happened last night. It’s still a bit of a strange blur, but he remembers the puzzling room, the stairs and doors that seemed to lead nowhere, and the door they went through that  _ did.  _ Yuugi remembers the sight that beheld them on the other side: first the darkness, then the three primary-coloured lights, and then the red eyes that chased them out of the room to where Yuugi and the Pharaoh were able to travel back to reality.

It still feels like one weird dream, but Yuugi knows that it happened … somehow.

He grabs the Puzzle off his bed and slips the chain round his neck. He also grabs his cell phone which blinks to signal a message. However, there isn’t just one message but three, all from different people. 

Yuugi opens the first one from Anzu:  _ Hey there, how are you doing? Mind if I stop by for a bit – I want to talk to you about what happened during that tournament. I have some things on my mind. Let me know when you’re awake and ready. _

There’s one from Mokuba:  _ Big Bro’s working on some stuff after the tournament – want to help us out? Lemme know. _

And one from Jounouchi:  _ b there in 10. _

Yuugi checks the timestamp on the last one – six minutes ago. He has four minutes to throw himself together before Jounouchi is banging on the door, and probably less because Jounouchi will bike over. Quickly, Yuugi dashes off to the bathroom to flatten down and gel up the mess that is his hair and to brush his teeth. 

On his way out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, he hears the doorbell ring twice before the door flies open. 

“Yuugi!” Jounouchi hollers. “Your gramps let me in. You upstairs?”

“Be there in a second!” Yuugi calls back, slamming the door behind him. He needs to get proper clothes on before he goes downstairs. Stepping round the puzzle on the floor – he  _ really  _ needs to find a better place for that – he heads to his dresser and yanks open the drawers, tossing jeans and t-shirts and and underwear onto his bed, more of each article of clothing than he needs.

_ Bang!  _ The door hits the wall, and Jounouchi is in the entryway in all his glory. His blond hair is windswept around his green eyes that glimmer devilishly, only complemented by his triumphant smirk that stretches from one side of his face to the other. Jounouchi doesn’t wear anything but jeans and t-shirts. Today he’s got on a t-shirt from the band  _ DRK MGCN  _ that both he and Yuugi like, and a pair of ripped, faded jeans that hang loose on his hips. 

He leans against the doorway, one arm braced up, and chuckles at Yuugi with his clothes spilled all across the room, still in his pyjamas, and with his top halfway off.

Yuugi is not chuckling. He yanks his shirt down, cheeks so red you could roast eggs on them, and a scowl so deep it cuts into his dimpled cheeks.

Within his soul room, the Pharaoh is chuckling.

“Jounouchi, knock!” Yuugi berates, storming across the room, around the puzzle, and holding onto the handle. “I need to change, and you need to –”

Jounouchi has at least forty pounds and nine inches on Yuugi; Yuugi doesn’t stand a chance at closing the door. Jounouchi keeps himself rooted in the entryway, still laughing to himself. “Aww, are you embarrassed? You don’t get that way when we’re in gym class –”

“That’s  _ different,”  _ Yuugi argues, pushing harder against the door. 

Once more, Jounouchi doesn’t budge. He takes a look around the room, to where Yuugi becomes painfully aware of the mess he fell asleep in. Other than the clothes on the floor, there are mangas and doujins spread across his desk – not a textbook in sight. He’s left some of a board game’s pieces lying around too, and his shelves are both dusty and disorganised.

“You jus’ wake up?” Jounouchi asks.

“... yes,” Yuugi answers. He gives one more push. “Please, Jounouchi, I need to change. Go raid the fridge –”

Jounouchi steps back with a bright smile. “I was waiting for that!” he says.

This time, Yuugi can’t hold back a laugh. “Since when have you ever asked permission?”

Jounouchi has the gall to look affronted, cheeks dipping down into a pout. “Yuugi, my best bud, dare accuse me of disrespectful guest behaviour? The  _ nerve  _ he has.” The effect is thoroughly ruined when, not a second later, Jounouchi is bent over laughing so hard that he has to hold his stomach.

Yuugi takes up his place in the doorway now, leaning his head to the side. The Puzzle adds an extra weight, and he feels a bit lopsided trying to mimic the same pose as Jounouchi. 

“The nerve  _ you _ have,” he counters.

Jounouchi peeks up at him through his thick bangs. “Fair point.”

Reaching out with his foot, Yuugi gives Jounouchi a slight push towards the stairs. “Go on, Jounouchi – raid the fridge for me and find me some breakfast too. I’ll be down in a sec.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice. Jounouchi bounds down the stairs with several  _ thump-thump-thumps,  _ and Yuugi watches him go with a wry smile. When he knows Jounouchi is downstairs, he turns on his heels and closes the door to his bedroom. Rather than panic over what outfit to wear, he picks out the first t-shirt and jeans he can find – both well-worn and comfortable – and slips them on. He replaces the Puzzle round his neck. Inside, the Pharaoh has been chuckling to himself.

Teasingly, Yuugi chucks some fuzzy thoughts down their mental hallway so the Pharaoh can feel the true force of Yuugi’s feelings.

_ Is that a twinge of embarrassment too, Yuugi?  _ the Pharaoh says.

_ No!  _ Yuugi snaps.  _ That’s  _ your  _ feeling! _

The Pharaoh just keeps laughing.

Yuugi opens the door to the bedroom, surprised when he doesn’t run into Jounouchi dashing back up the stairs to greet him. He makes his way down the stairs, still on high alert in case someone comes barreling into him. However, at the bottom of the stairs Yuugi can look into both the kitchen and the living room, and he finds Jounouchi pulling out container after container, snacking from several of them all at once.

Yuugi hops down the last step. “Are you gonna save any for me?”

Jounouchi looks up at once. His cheeks are stuffed full, and he swallows hard before he speaks. “You’ve got enough food in here to feed a small army, Yuugi! Does your ma always cook too much?”

“Or something like that,” Yuugi says. He skips across the room to stand at the fridge with Jounouchi, and reaches over to grab a plastic container of curry. He considers microwaving it up, but that would require extra energy that he doesn’t have, so he just grabs a spoon from the closest drawer and begins shovelling the food into his mouth. 

For a moment, there’s near-silence, with the only noise being his and Jounouchi’s chewing sounds. When Yuugi finishes that container, he grabs a peach from off the counter and eats that too. Jounouchi devours three full containers of food Yuugi doesn’t even remember eating for dinner, but soon they’re both happily full.

Yuugi eyes the tea kettle. “Want tea?”

Jounouchi shakes his head. “You got soda?”

Yuugi reaches into the fridge and tosses Jounouchi a can. He turns the kettle on for himself. 

“Hey.”

Yuugi still has his back to him. “Hm?”

“You ever … think about what happened with the tournament?”

Yuugi nods, then speaks: “Yeah.” A pause. “Anzu-chan texted about that this morning. I should respond to her actually, tell her that I’m awake and that you’re already over.” Yuugi flips open his phone and spots the other message from Mokuba. “Oh, and Mokuba-kun messaged too. It sounds like this tournament stuff has been on everyone’s minds.”

_ Thump!  _ It’s the sound of Jounouchi’s butt hitting the counter and his feet hitting the cupboards; he leans back against the top cupboards, sighing. “Go figure rich boy is into this too. It’s just that … things ended kinda rough, don’t you think? Like … what if that tournament did go on? What if none of this happened?”

“I don’t think the outcome would have been any better,” Yuugi says. “Malik was after the Puzzle, and I don’t think he would have responded rationally to any of us. Kaiba-kun wouldn’t have helped either. Besides …” Yuugi hears the kettle whistle and pours the hot water over the green tea leaves. He watches it steep, the hot mist brushing his face. “What happened happened. We can’t really put the blame on anyone.”

A snort. “Well, we can blame whoever killed Malik, and you know who that was.”

“I don’t really –”

“Are you kidding me, Yuugi?” Jounouchi slams the bottle down on the counter, probably not intending it to be so loud, but it still causes Yuugi to jump. “All of us were there for the tournament, all of us were together. Kaiba couldn’t do it either because he was pouting and then fixing up his own messes. There was only  _ one  _ of us who could’ve gone and who wouldn’t remember –”

“He was in the hospital though –”

“Bakura  _ escaped  _ from the hospital. He’s got no memory of the event, but when does he ever remember what happened? He looked like death when he found us.”

“But what does Bakura-kun care about Malik, or even the Spirit?” Yuugi shakes his head. “I can’t just blame him for what happened because he was gone.”

“You can blame that spirit of his because he’s the most likely. You’ve met him before, Yuugi – he’s not above getting his hands dirty.”

Jounouchi has a fair point. Yuugi knows it, but still … There’s the slimmest of chances that Ryou got involved. He was in the hospital after having been stabbed himself. If Malik had stabbed him then maybe the Spirit went after revenge, but to go to such lengths … It’s more likely that the Spirit went after the Puzzle. With the powers of the Millennium Ring, he’d be able to locate the shattered pieces of the Puzzle faster and easier than anyone else.

“I don’t know,” Yuugi says at last. “I get where you’re coming from, I do, but I still just don’t know. The Ishtars told us the Spirit was working with Malik, and while a rift could have come between them, I can’t just charge someone with murder.”

From within his mind, Yuugi feels the Pharaoh creep closer.  _ While I understand you want to protect your friend, you should know that Jounouchi is accusing the Spirit, not your friend. This is about the Spirit of the Millennium Ring and the terrible crimes he’s committed. _

_ I know,  _ Yuugi answers.  _ But there’s still no way to know, and it’s just as likely a Ghoul could have killed Malik – more likely, in fact, considering the kinds of shady business Malik was involved in. Besides, you’ve met the Spirit before … He plays for all sides.  _

The Pharaoh recedes back, sending a wave of understanding to Yuugi.

Yuugi breathes a sigh of relief. He shoots off a quick message to Anzu telling her to come over now (and not mentioning that Jounouchi is already here because she’ll see that surprise for herself), and then replies to Mokuba’s text with a quick,  _ be there in the afternoon. _

Not a second later, he receives a message back from both of them.

_ – Bringing scones over! _

_ – kool. _

Jounouchi leans across the counter to glance at Yuugi’s screen, and he laughs outright. “You really think Rich Boy can help us with anything?”

Yuugi nods. “He must know something. Jounouchi” – Yuugi turns to face towards him – “the Pharaoh has been thinking about how to get his memories back. We’ve been looking for them. I bet the Tombkeepers had information for us that we should have asked for. It’s too late now, but they knew about the Pharaoh.”

The Tombkeepers’ death still bothers Yuugi. It’s all of their deaths, how it happened, how quickly they were gone … They all had their missions that they failed. It pains Yuugi to think they came all the way to Domino, having escaped such a terrible life in Egypt, only to die just over a week later.

The deaths haven’t bothered Jounouchi nearly as much. 

“Eh, they were all mysterious and probably wouldn’t have told us much anyways. Ishizu was much more interested in finding Malik anyways. However!” Jounouchi holds up a hand, fingers pointed up to the ceiling. “I bet the museum would have what we need. Didn’t Ishizu say she worked there, or something like that, and she was coming here for some other reason.”

Yuugi only remembers her talking about her job briefly, or maybe he saw it in the news somewhere. He remembers it though. Even though they can’t ask Ishizu directly, there must be information about the Pharaoh in the museum.

Jounouchi slaps his knee, a sound that still makes Yuugi jump.

“What?”

“Bakura’s dad works at the museum too, doesn’t he?”

Though Yuugi has known Ryou for much longer, he knows even less about his father than he does about Ishizu. Ryou doesn’t talk much about his family, and none of them are ever in town to see him. However, Yuugi does know that Ryou’s dad works at the museum, specifically in the Egyptian exhibit.

“Maybe …”

Jounouchi beats him to it: “We gotta ask Bakura’s dad about Ishizu!”

Yuugi’s head twists around. “What? You think –”

“Course I think! I think that if Ishizu were working with the Japanese museum staff she’s gotta have met him.”

“But we don’t even know Bakura-kun’s father, so we can’t really just ask him …” Yuugi looks down at his feet. There’s something about Ryou’s father that bugs him. Maybe it’s just that Yuugi, who loves his family deeply, can’t imagine a father who isn’t present in child’s life. But then again there’s Jounouchi’s father, an alcoholic who has caused Jounouchi more grief than love. Still though, Ryou’s father doesn’t seem like the abusive guy, at least not physically. If Yuugi’s honest with himself, he’s pretty sure Ryou’s father just doesn’t care about his son.

It probably hurts Ryou just as much.

Yuugi takes a deep swig of his tea, wincing as the hot liquid burns his tender tongue. 

“You have a better suggestion?” Jounouchi asks him.

Yuugi opens his mouth to answer, but at that moment there’s a knock on the door leading from the shop into the living quarters, and the door swings open just a pinch.

“Excuse me,” Anzu says.

Yuugi hops forward at once and opens the door all the way for her. The next thing he knows Anzu is hugging him, brown hair tickling his cheeks and neck. She’s wearing heels that make her tower over him like Jounouchi does, so Yuugi stands up on his tiptoes to even the distance.

After a moment, Anzu’s arms settle a bit and she steps back. It must be a warm, summer day out, for Anzu is dressed in a cheery pin-striped dress with a high collar fastened with flower-shaped buttons. The waist of the dress is cinched tight to Anzu’s slim waist by a belt with a similar, daisy-shaped buckle. Atop her head is a floppy sun hat that falls in front of her eyes for a second before she pushes it back.

Brightest of all though is Anzu’s smile. Her face glows with such warmth and happiness. Then, cheekily, she glances to where Jounouchi stands, and past them to the kitchen.

“Been snacking?” she jokes.

“Breakfast,” Yuugi says with a soft laugh. “You want some tea or some fruit?”

Jounouchi beats her to it. “Yuugi! I thought we were going out! You were just talking about the museum –”

“Museum?” Anzu echoes. “Yuugi, what’s that about?”

_ Time to fill Anzu in,  _ Yuugi realises. Quickly, he debriefs her on what has happened: the soul room adventures with the Pharaoh (that Jounouchi never got to hear), the text from Mokuba, and the mission to find the Pharaoh’s memories. He tells her about how this might be related to the Ishtars, and how if they can get any information about Ancient Egypt it’ll have to be from the museum where Ryou’s father works.

By the end of the spiel, Anzu is tapping a painted fingernail to her lips. She hasn’t interrupted him once, and when Yuugi finishes, panting, he’s surprised she doesn’t jump on him with questions. In fact, it’s over a minute before she says anything.

“Well, you already responded to Mokuba-kun, so why don’t we see him first?”

“Kaiba can  _ wait,”  _ Jounouchi drawls. “Bet it’s the first time in his life.”

Anzu rolls her eyes towards him. “Didn’t Kaiba get to meet Ishizu too? And he kept them in his office building for a while too, I think … or maybe that’s just a tabloid rumour. Before we go to Bakura-kun’s dad though, we should at least give Mokuba-kun and Kaiba-kun a chance to talk.”

Trust Anzu to be the reasonable one. 

Yuugi breathes a sigh of relief. He smiles back at Jounouchi though – without Jounouchi’s help, Yuugi wouldn’t have remembered about Ryou’s connection to the museum.

“Anzu, would you be OK if we went out now? I told Mokuba I’d be there by the afternoon, and by the time we take the train out to the city it’ll be close to then.”

She chuckles. “I’m here for you Yuugi, whether that means we’re running halfway across the world or staying here. Only” – she laughs behind her hand – “don’t ever leave me out of these kinds of adventures, OK? Promise?”

On instinct, Yuugi sticks out his hand, pinkie finger out. “Promise, Anzu.”

She wraps her pinkie finger around his.

Behind them, Jounouchi wolf-whistles so loudly that people on the shop floor probably heard it. Yuugi’s cheeks darken and he ducks his head, feeling his palms already go sweaty. He takes his hand back and hangs it at his side; with his other hand, he grabs his windbreaker than hangs on the hook. It’s emblazoned with a puzzle on it, a gift from his mother for solving the Puzzle.

Yuugi hears Jounouchi slurp down the rest of his drink and then he thunders across the room to slip on his shoes and jacket. When they’re all ready to go, Yuugi takes them back through the shop. There is a back door they can use  that doesn’t involve walking through the store, but on his way out Yuugi waves to his grandfather at the till. Sugoroku still has the same bubbly face only touched by age, though his bangs, similarly cut to Yuugi’s, are ash-grey and flecked with white.

“Be home for dinner!” Yuugi says before he’s out the door.

“Have a good day, Yuugi!” his grandfather returns.

The moment Yuugi steps outside, he has to raise a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding sunlight that hits right on the game store. There is a gentle breeze that sweeps by, causing the clouds to run across the sky. On the ground, Yuugi spots hundreds of people milling by along one of the major roads. He feels so much smaller in such a large city, and it takes a deep breath for him to come to his senses.

Jounouchi insists that he knows the fastest way to the train station, so Anzu and Yuugi follow behind him through the quaint sidestreets. Because Jounouchi delivers newspapers, he’ll find the quickest way there. In the meantime, it gives Yuugi a chance to be alone with his thoughts, or more specifically with the Pharaoh. He’s felt some emotions creeping between their connection.

_ Are you thinking Kaiba-kun knows something?  _ he asks.

_ I do,  _ the Pharaoh answers.  _ He’s more involved in this than we previously assumed, especially if he knows anything about the god card. You have that with us, right? _

Yuugi pats his pocket.  _ Got it.  _

Anzu’s words interrupt his thoughts. “Sorry, Yuugi – I’m sure you’re talking to the Pharaoh, but … what about the Items?”

For a second, Yuugi’s hand instinctively goes to the Puzzle, which he knows is in one piece but he still checks out of a recent habit. Then he realises what other Items she’s talking about. “Oh, you mean the Items the Ishtars have. Those are under investigation because the police think there might be fingerprints on them. We’ll get them back next week if we’re lucky.”

Ahead, Jounouchi calls out, “Kaiba couldn’t use his authority to get them back?”

Yuugi shakes his head. “I don’t even think Kaiba could get the police to budge on a homicide and a double-suicide. Besides, he doesn’t care about those Items anyways. He sees no purpose in them, even if I explain it to him.”

_ We should tell Kaiba about our venture into the soul room,  _ the Pharaoh says.

Yuugi chuckles dryly.  _ You think he’ll believe us? _

_ It doesn’t matter – he still needs to know what happened. He might be able to tell us what that means, if those other lights have to do with the other god cards. Just because Kaiba is … uncooperative doesn’t mean we can leave him out of our plans. He’s helped us before. _

The Pharaoh has a point, though Yuugi wishes he didn’t have to listen to Seto rant at him beforehand. He should trust Seto more, though Seto makes it hard. 

Jounouchi leads them to the train station in record station, up a set of concrete stairs and through the ticket area to a large, open platform with dozens of lines heading throughout the city and to other parts of Japan. They search out a train that will take them across the city, not to the other side completely, but to where KaibaCorp is located. 

The train that comes for them is painted with duel monsters in recognition of KaibaCorp and I2’s partnership. Yuugi, Jounouchi, and Anzu squeeze into the train car, and just as the doors close the train shoots off down the railway. Being squished between his friends is what keeps Yuugi from toppling over; there’s no room to fall over! He keeps his hands down at his sides and prays that he doesn’t fall over when the train stops at the next station. Since he’s so short, he can’t even see where they’re headed.

“Jounouchi,” he whispers, “you know which exit it is, right?”

Jounouchi winks down at him. “You think this is my first time visit Kaiba, don’t you?” Even in such a squished space, Jounouchi still manages to lean down and bump shoulders with him. “Remember when we raided Kaiba’s house that one day?”

Yuugi nods.  _ That  _ had been fun.

Convinced that they won’t miss the stop, Yuugi lets his dead weight fall on whoever it does, and it keeps him upright until Anzu and Jounouchi each take him by the shoulder and drag him out of the train car before the doors close on him. Yuugi feels the change in air temperature when he’s out of the car and it’s a blessing that there’s a slight breeze to take away the heat. He shakes himself a bit on the station and looks around. This particular station is a bit fancier, probably because of the location being so close to KaibaCorp and other businesses.

That, and there are duel monsters posters everywhere. Kaiba hasn’t let the bad publicity get to him and has been promoting the game at large. While there hasn’t been talk of a tournament, all the rave is Duel Monsters themed merchandise in every single store. There are banners and posters all along the walls. Just outside of the platform is a shop selling plushes, phone charms, posters, and any other kind of memorabilia and paraphernalia. 

“Business is booming,” Anzu says with a chuckle.

Outside of the station, giant TVs show commercials of the newest booster packs for Duel Monsters. There’s an anime preview based on the game that’s set to come out soon too; below the jumbotron, there is a small crowd of people gathered and walking the screen. There are  more stores outside selling trading cards and merchandise, and even a couple game shops advertising training sessions. 

Where Yugui lives, his grandfather’s shop is the only game store in the city. But further into the city the business becomes less family run and more corporate, and most importantly it’s  _ all  _ KaibaCorp from this part of the city outwards. 

Jounouchi knows this part of the city better than both of them, and he has his street smarts, so once more Anzu and Yuugi follows Jounouchi down the wide sidewalks bordered by skyscrapers made of glass and mirrors. This part of the city is built to perfection; even when Yuugi cranes his head back, he still can’t see the penthouses at the top.

However, KaibaCorp is bigger than all of them. KaibaCorp sprawls across an entire block, bordered by four roads that still have trouble containing its size. At the centre of the four roads is the tower, stretching higher than any other building in all of Domino and in Japan. There are great, silver steps leading up to the sliding glass doors. Just above is the KC logo, and then from there the building shoots up to the heavens. It’s made of mirrors that reflect the sky and the city around it; rumour has it that Kaiba paid to clean up the nearby buildings just so they wouldn’t reflect badly off the untouched mirrors of his own building. At the top of the tower there is a landing pad for Kaiba’s helicopter and his Blue Eyes White Jet, but from ground level Yuugi can’t see either of those.

Jounouchi whistles low and long. “You ever seen something that just screams ‘rich people?’”

Yuugi nods, lost for words. 

_ Did it get bigger?  _ he asks himself.

The three of them take the steps up to the doorway, which whooshes open to blast them with air conditioning. Yuugi shivers once more at the temperature change.

Inside KaibaCorp, there is a big lobby with lots of chairs and desks all around the room for different inquiries. The desks on either side are for merchandising or technical concerns, and the front desk is for general inquiries. Many of the lobby chairs are occupied, and there are more people just milling around the area.

Yuugi approaches the front desk and stands to get the attention of the secretary, a younger guy who looks fresh out of a college and maybe working part time.

“Mutou Yuugi,” Yuugi says, “and I’m looking for Kaiba Mokuba-kun. He should have a note –”

The man nods. He swings his chair round and pushes at one side of the desk. The table falls down to reveal a small path leading up to a staircase that spirals towards another floor. “Just follow those stairs to the elevator, and then head on up. I’ll let Mokuba-sama know you’re on your way up.”

“Thank you,” Yuugi says, bowing. His words are echoed by Anzu and Jounouchi, who now follow him up the glass staircase to another floor. There’s nothing on this floor but a platform sparsely decorated with carpet and wallpaper, but inlaid in the wall is a great, shiny elevator. Its size reminds Yuugi of the large elevators he’s seen at airports. Why Seto needs one of the same size it beyond him.

Without even pressing a button, the elevator doors spring open. 

“God Kaiba, are you stalking us?” Jounouchi calls out. “If you have a microphone too, I hope you can hear how hard I’m judging you.”

Yuugi feels himself nodding along. He steps into the elevator, followed by Anzu, and at last by Jounouchi. The doors close right on Jounouchi’s heels and before he can even snap at that, the elevator shoots upwards. Yuugi’s stomach flies into his throat and he coughs weakly, not expecting quite the jolt. Anzu and Jounouchi both shake their heads at it too.

Not a second later the doors open with a gentle  _ bing!  _ Beyond the elevator is a large room, expansively decorated with plush carpet. There are several couches placed strategically throughout the room, all accompanied by cherrywood coffee tables. Lights resembling satellites hang from the walls and shine a soft glow down on the cosy atmosphere for what can only be the living room.

Yuugi has never been in this area of KaibaCorp before, but this was the last thing he expected. 

A clap stirs him from his thoughts, and he jolts his head up. At the far left side of the room is small dais, upon which sits a large, ivory piano. Backed behind the piano is a large, floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the sprawling city of Domino. The buildings below can only be skyscrapers, but they’re half the size of the towering KC Tower. 

And, sitting atop the piano, is Kaiba Mokuba, legs dangling over the edge. 


End file.
